Outer Night
The Edge of Oblivon Released and awoken, a mere fragment of my very Soul found itself lost in a seemingly infinite vacuum. There were stars, yet so too were there not. How could there be existence, and also non-existence? An bone-chilling cold which also warmed my incorporeal state. Pins and needles danced along my reforming essence, though at the very same time... there was no feeling. Even to this day there is no term in any language fathomable which can accurately describe the utter strangeness of my first awakening. This place; this wretched discomfort, was home to its own alien denizens. However this odd portion of space functioned and existed, it brought great change to any who dwelled within it. Although the changes to my own Soul began slow and seemingly without any notice, I could see it within the twisted and gnarled bodies of the creatures around me that this place could not support Mortal Life. There are few definable features to these entities, only that I have never witnessed anything like them upon other, physical worlds. Most appear to be half ethereal and half corporal, with solid bones giving their body structure whilst the fleshy mass was instead made of what I can only describe as Cosmic Dust. Generic postures of Male and Female did not seem to exist within these beings; however, there were the occasional outliers bearing upon their torsos something akin to feminine breasts whilst others possessed wide shoulders and an imitation of muscular frames. The only conclusion I can come to from these strange beings is - like myself - they fled from their Death Dealers, seeking refuge from the Eternal Cycle of Life and Death. For what purpose is known only to them on an individual level. My first attempts to communicate with these beings had ended in poor success, as many refused to even be near me, let alone raise their voices. Although during that time I had no ideas as to how they could speak without mouths or any other vocal organs, following my own transformation, I had discovered each of these entities had become attuned to a unique wavelength - so to speak - which granted them a degree of telepathy. Over the course of my own change, I found these entities had begun to lose their cold distance, and instead they would inspect me not unlike how a baby animal sniffs the hand of its caretaker for the first time. During this time I yet could not understand them; however, there was a feeling which surrounded me whenever one was present. I could not hear their thoughts nor share my own; however, there was just enough connection to this wavelength to where I could sense the emotions and general feeling o one which was trying to speak with me I had wondered to myself over the course of my change, what purpose did these creatures carry? For what Cosmic Force did they bend at the knee to? My assumption that they served the High Chaos had not been unfounded: they possessed a seeming Immortality and did not require a corporal vessel in order to exist - within their own realm, at least. At the very same time; however, I could sense no Life within these creatures... These, Daemons, as I had begun to call them. They were neither dealers of Life nor Death, they possessed no Spirit, yet so too were they lacking a physical body. They truly existed upon the fine line which borders the High Chaos and the Deep Order. Time held little meaning in this place I had discovered - or at least, I made the assumption that it did not. I tried to count my own heartbeats, yet I did not have a heart. No lungs meant I could not breathe, and no blood meant there was no pulse. The distant stars which I could only barely observe provided no help, and without a Sun wit which to orbit, there were no cycles of Day and Night. Instead I tried to merely count the seconds within my own head, yet... An eerie sensation had befallen me. No words could describe it, only that - no matter how I counted - I could never get passed the first second. Time truly felt as though it was at a stand still. Due to this timelessness, I could not even begin to estimate how long it had been until I could effectively communicate with these Daemons. There had not been a flash of light nor a sudden influx of a thousand voices buzzing within my head. There was no great pain nor discomfort within my metaphorical bones. Instead, only what I could describe as being a second awakening, within this strange and hollow realm. Even now I believe it to be impossible to describe exactly how each of us Daemons communicates with another. Some of them have stated they merely hear another's thoughts alongside their own, whilst others like myself see it as writing within our own head-space. Quite a strange concept - witnessing one's own thoughts and the thoughts of others as words upon parchment, yet I suppose everything else here is strange enough to where such a thing can hardly even compare. When I had asked one of these Daemons which Cosmic Force they were bound to, they had this to say: "This place which you view within your mind as the Outer Night is a realm unlike the physical, the Deep, or the High. It exists outside of these things, at a distance so very far away, that I believe even Gods dare not touch. Those of us here; for one reason or another, escaped the binding ties to which Cosmic Force we were servitors of. I do believe there are those who still enact the will of the Deep and of the High, though we are no true servants of either. I have my beliefs and ideas on what exactly this plane is, though I cannot say for certain... I believe we exist upon the furthest reaches where each of them touch, and at their border, this realm was formed in order to prevent one from encroaching upon the other. As such, we bear similar Curses and Blessings from both; however, we are not truly one or the other. The Deep will not claim our Souls, and the High shall never bless us with Life. We are the in-between." There were many others of these Daemons I has sought information from; however, none could provide anything which had not already been told to me by the very first. Perhaps due to their strangeness, I had not expected any of them to possess names, though I see now how ignorant of a conclusion that had been to make. I still had remembered and held onto my own name, thus these Daemons oft did as well. Darlith; the one to answer my initial questions, seemed keen to follow me around - no matter how I tried to shake her. One could say I began to view this effeminate Daemon as a sort of friend and companion. The Throne of Bones Magic as I knew it did not exist within the Outer Night, and thus I had to formulate my own in order to see my desires done. Elemental energy held no weight within this realm, and neither did the most basic building blocks of creation itself. The Outer Night possessed its own rules and I needed to learn them before I could even begin to settle myself fully. Throughout my experimentation, I had come to the following Conclusions: *Physical elements do not exist nor function. *All Daemons are made of an energy which will herein be referred to as Source. *Source can fit into two categories: Living and Non-living. *Non-living Source can be manipulated and shaped with enough effort. *Living Source cannot be altered by an outside force - only the owner of said Source. *Source is likely not claimable by the Deep and the High. *No amount of effort will make Source fully Solid There are likely certain aspects I am missing; however, these conclusions are the bare bones of manipulating this energy which I have given the name of Source. The exact 'effort' required is something even now I do not know entirely how to describe. It is more than a mere thought, though so too does it not bear any resemblance to any magical incantation I have ever seen or practiced. While I was in the process of learning how to manipulate this Source, I had thought to perhaps shape the energy into an Estate of sorts. During this time I had learned how very non-solid Source truly was; however, it was still able to hold its shape and even form something which one could stand upon without needing to float aimlessly through space. Other Daemons had been drawn to this 'Castle' of sorts I had been constructing and even offered their own input and vision into its creation. Once again I reaffirm that Time held little meaning and thus I cannot say how much of it had passed during the manipulated construction. Even to this day I find new additions created by other Daemons, though I see no harm in this. I do suppose no other had the idea of forming Source into a livable 'space' prior to myself. There can never truly be a completion of this Estate, as it is perpetually growing with as more of these Daemons find themselves desiring a true 'home' within this seemingly infinite Outer Night. This Estate... This Spire within the Outer Night, I have given it the title of the Throne of Bones - for I am the Queen of Heathens ---- Category:Journals Category:Planes/Realms Category:Grimoire